


Uncle Tom Riddle

by DrogonSoundsLikeDragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A few changes made, Animagus, Battle of Hogwarts, Death, Death Eaters, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Drama, Good Death Eaters, Hogwarts, Manipulative Dumbledore, Rating May Change, Romance, Tom eventually comes to love his niece, Tom/Hermione parent relationship, ties in with Harry Potter, uncle tom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7617616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrogonSoundsLikeDragon/pseuds/DrogonSoundsLikeDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four year old Hermione Granger is taken by her uncle, Tom Riddle, to live at his castle and become his Dark Heir; But Tom should know by now that the future can rarely be planned..ties in with Harry Potter. Edited and updated version.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hi! Hope you enjoy my fanfic- this was originally posted on fanfiction.net but i'll start uploading it here too. Enjoy :)

PROLOGUE

 

It was the dead of winter when Tom Riddle sat down at his desk. A bitter wind had entered the magnificent castle in which Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters reigned, and another successful raid on the ministry had heightened the Death Eaters spirits. Tom had decided to let them roam free in a party in the Luncheon Hall, with the invitation extending to their wives and children. The next generation of his loyal servants would need to become accustomed to the bodies and sights of a Mudblood revelry. The jeers and shouts of the Death Eaters were so loud that noise leaked through the charm that had been placed on the hall.  
A few days previous Tom had embarked on a visit to his father’s stately home in Little Hangleton. Any documents found there were taken by Tom. He needed a new vessel to split his soul again, perhaps for the final time. His immortality was only a few letters away.  
So in the dark study, kept alight by a few sickly green candles, sat Tom Riddle, undoing a previously opened envelope. It read;

My dear Thomas,  
Your parents have spread the news about your return. I say, I can’t wait for that fabulous ball tomorrow at your house! It is so good to see you returned and well. I have missed you greatly over the years. No one would believe me about that tramp Merope having you hoodwinked. I knew so when you refused to wave at me at that last ball held by your parents. I have so missed, you, my friend.  
Your loving friend,  
Cecilia Grangere

Tom threw this to the marbled floor and grabbed the next letter. However much he hated his father, a morbid fascination rose up in him about this…Cecilia person. The bitter cleft in his heart at being left by his father seemed to enjoy the torture of reading about his relative’s later life. The next letter stated;  
My dear Thomas,  
Please do not think I turned down your offer of courtship at the ball last week. It just shocked me so, being asked of my hand by a person of your calibre. But my dear, I accept. My father has agreed to you escorting me to the opera next week in London. I shall pore through my dresses for a suitable outfit!  
With all my love,  
Cecilia Grangere

A dark curiosity had been awoken in Tom. He had always wanted a companion, like a mother and father. He had Nagini now, but the thought of relatives didn't make him shudder as he thought they would. Perhaps the gift of his magic had been passed on, to forward the line of Voldemort. The last letter's ink was smudged, and dribbled in places.

My Tom,  
My parents said I mustn't see you again. The "shame" you have brought to my family does not compare to the agony my heart feels. Our little boy is to be called Robert. He is healthy, and has the most gorgeous smile in the world. I will always cherish this gift you have given me. No matter how or where we will move on, rest assured my heart will always be yours.  
Cecilia Grangere 

Tom was… the word stunned didn't really explain it. He was flabbergasted- shocked- disturbed? No word could sum up the rising tide of grief and excitement that stirred in his pale veins. And then, he came back to earth. His father, and most likely Cecilia, were both muggles. The brother he had was most likely a waste of space. And yet….another letter. This one hadn't been opened; most likely because Cecilia hadn't learned of Tom Sr's death. Voldemort smirked at that thought.

Dear Thomas,  
You have no idea how I have deliberated over sending this letter. How long has it been? Well over 50 years…in response to my last letter, our son, Robert, has grown into a man to be proud of. He obtained first class honours in his degree in Dentistry from the University of Edinburgh, and has settled down in a small village in Surrey. He looks almost exactly like you, with your curls and my blue eyes. He truly is the greatest gift I have been given.  
He married a darling girl, Gemma, a few years past. Her family may not have been to the standard of the nobility we were once part of, but her personality is infectious. At our weekly lunch dates, the girl has me in stitches. But, the reason of this letter is for our first grandchild. Her name is Hermione. She’s a darling little girl, she was born last week. Curly hair, the colour of dark gold. And these grey, silken eyes, already at this age.  
And yet…I feel something is off with her. Between you and me, I do worry about her. She has a habit of staring, though i do not mind having her little face focused on mine! I swear she can look at a picture frame and have it fall from the wall. It’s almost like the tricks that old hag Merope would play! I could be a senile old woman, though. Honestly, she is practically newborn! I look forward to hearing from you again. Perhaps we could meet for a coffee one day soon?  
With love,  
Cecilia Granger

Tom hummed a raspy, dry sound. A little girl, with his flesh and blood circling in her, and a young age too, guessed from the envelope date. She'd be about four. From Cecilia's tone in the letter, she could be a…mud- muggleborn. A very low chance, yet the potential was there.  
Uncle Tom.  
Tomorrow he would have to rally his Death Eaters. Pay a little visit to the Granger household.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 1  
Hermione Eliza Granger jumped into her warm bed, and snuggled down into her wonderfully thick duvet, patterned with spots and stripes that her grandmother had knitted. It was a very cold night. Frostbite had already hit her dad's geraniums.

Keeping her eyes on her heavily packed bookshelf, she gradually levitated her book in the air, and brought it to her. The book, Jack Frost, flopped down the moment Hermione's concentration slipped. She was, after all, only four years old. She flicked through the pages rapidly whilst the sky darkened outside her window. She had no idea of the Death Eaters poised on their broomsticks outside her house, ready to be of service to their Lord.

When her eyelids started drooping, and she had finished yawning for the third time, Hermione laid the book down and curled up into a ball. Her mother, Gemma popped her head round the door to gaze at her sleeping daughter.

"Goodnight, 'Mione," she whispered lovingly, switching off the main light. Hermione’s nightlight cast a comforting glow over the room.  
It would be the last time she saw her daughter.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, her uncle stood in the corner of the room, disillusioned. He needed to get a good look at his soon-to-be charge. Tom was impressed when she displayed her power floating the book to her. At her age he had only progressed to setting small blades of grass on fire with his magic.  
Focusing on the Dark Marks present on all his Death Eaters, Tom sent four death eaters to fly above the small house, guarding it, and he had two death eaters, again disillusioned, to watch over the adult Grangers.

It was time to wake up his niece.

"Hermione," he said confidently, after placing a spell on the door, “Awaken."

Hermione looked up to gaze at Voldemort. She took in his curled hair and cold, grey eyes. It was as if her dad was stood in front of her, yet cold and unyielding. She shivered, and scowled at the man who had interrupted her dreams.

"Who are you?" she asked, leaping out of bed to get a closer look to him.

"I'm your uncle. You may address me as such." He attempted a cold smile, a hint of his canines creeping over his pale lips.

"Would you like some tea?" she grinned, before running to her chestnut coloured wardrobe and fetching her Pretty Princess tea set. She laid out her cutlery and poured a small amount for Tom, who looked into the cup distastefully. He conjured two small chairs, coloured with the Riddle crest. Hermione, however, clapped her hands and changed hers into a bright blue beanbag.

Voldemort was stunned at how such a young magiked person who could successfully channel her energy without a wand- it was almost unheard of in the Wizarding world. The nearest he had heard of Hermione’s level was the fool Dumbledore’s much aligned sister Ariana, before the filth muggles had attacked her.  
Hermione had finished her "tea" and was staring at Thomas, willing him to do the same.

Without Hermione noticing, Tom brought his wand and tapped his pink cup, filling it with a particularly strong brand of firewhisky. He gratefully swigged it back, knowing he would come to need it.

"Hermione, I am your…uncle, on your father's side. He is my brother. The gifts you have, such as levitating books and changing objects at your will are due to the presence of magic within you, a gift that I and many of my cohorts share. I have decided that it would be in mine and your best interests for you to come and live at my castle, which is far away from here. I trust you will comply?"

Hermione stared blankly at him, before looking down at her feet. All she had understood of the man was he was her new uncle, and he wanted her to live in his castle. What of her Mum and Dad, and Grandma Cece? She would miss so much, like watching television with her Mum, and Dad giving her piggyback rides on his powerful shoulders. Maybe he would let her still see them. 

"What about Mum and Dad?” Hermione felt her eyes tearing up, and angrily wiped them away.

“They don’t care for you, Hermione. Things like their breed can’t. We are special, and you should be around other special people who can match your powers. If you come with me, I can show you things. You’ll live a life of luxury and power.” Tom silkily spoke, twirling the pink Princess cup between his fingers. Of course the girl would be coming with him with her consent or not, but it was better for her to do so of her own free will. Such a choice would make training her much easier in the future.

“I... I guess I’ll come, Uncle.”

Voldemort dipped his head in acknowledgement, before excusing himself. He had a couple of memories to modify, and a brother to meet.

Hermione had meanwhile wiped the threat of tears away, and opened her Barbie suitcase. Most of her clothes were simple jeans and t shirts, but the majority of room was spared for her toys and books.

Her Pretty Princess tea set was of course chucked in, along with her magician's kit and her rather astounding collection of books. She was teased about it when her mum took her down to the park a few weeks ago. So one day she collared the ring leader and floated him in a tree.

That was a good day.

Finishing her packing, she changed into a little blue shirt and some leggings, and clutched her toy panther, which her grandma gave her for her third birthday. It was the first toy she could remember owning, and was a treasured possession to the small Witch.  
*  
“Hello, Brother.”

In the small living room, Robert quickly whipped around from his seat on the sofa, shaking his arm free from his wife’s shoulders.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?”

The five Death Eaters in the room ended the disillusionment charm, and stepped forward towards their Lord. 

“I...well, I suppose I’m your brother, Robert. We share a father and thankfully, nothing else.”

“What?” Robert stood, and walked over to his sibling. Gemma gasped as they both looked at one another, the spitting image of Tom Riddle Sr. Voldemort’s grey eyes met the blue of his brother.

“I’m calling the police.” Gemma ran to the kitchen, before Rabastan Lestrange moved forward.

“Stupefy!”

Gemma fell to the floor with a dull thud, Robert instead falling to his knees.

“GEM!” He stood and looked at Tom.

“What are you! You... Freak!”

He was hit by a Petrificus Totalus by a shivering Regulas Black. Tom Riddle walked forward, and gazed into the eyes of his brother. The only sign of movement from Robert was his heavy breathing and movement of his eyes.

“We’re all magical, Robert. Wizards and witches truly exist. My mother was one. So is Hermione.” A low groan sounded from Robert at the sound of his daughter’s name. “I’m taking your daughter...my niece, and we’re going back to my home. I’m going to train her do much worse than this simple body bind. It’s simply a shame her and I must share blood with muggle animals like you and your wife.”

A low thudding erupted through the house, shattering the cups in the kitchen and causing the TV to fall to static. Tom shook himself, much to the relief of his nervous servants.

“But enough. I must calm myself.”

At the sound of Hermione’s pattering feet on the landing, Tom reappeared from downstairs. He had placed in the Grangers’ mind a need to go to India. They would leave tomorrow morning, as newlyweds who were happy to start their family and an animal rescue centre. The old woman Cecilia would be taken care of by a select few of Voldemort’s Death Eaters.

With the aid of his wand, Tom lifted Hermione’s suitcase and secured it tightly on the back of the broom hovering outside her window. He grabbed Hermione and placed her in front of him on the broom, casting a heating charm on her shivering body. Followed by an entourage of Death Eaters, the band of Wizards flew back to their castle. The geraniums in Hermione’s garden shrivelled into dead husks as Tom flew over them.

His heir was coming home.


	3. Chapter 3

The great doors leading to the inside of the castle of Voldemort were slowly creaking open to Hermione and Tom. She clutched her toy panther like he was drowning, and the hand clasped on her Barbie suitcase was trembling. Although she had slept for most of the journey, she could not believe it was seven pm. A full day of travelling had passed.

The Death Eaters, old and new, were a respectful distance away from Voldemort. They noticed him pat Hermione on the back and push her forwards. 

“Come along, Hermione. This is your new home.”

The click of her suitcase wheels echoed of the stone stairs as Hermione gingerly stepped onto the plush red rug. The floor must have had an arrival spell, as the one of the female Death Eaters, Narcissa, and a small blonde boy trotted down the grand staircase; as one, the pair bowed to Tom, before noticing Hermione hiding behind Tom's great flapping robes. Narcissa mouthed to Voldemort the word "shy." 

Tom nodded. 

“Hermione, please meet Narcissa and her son Draco. They will be taking care of you in the times of day that I will be... busy.”  
Draco, her son, stepped forward and looked at Hermione. His ice blonde hair stood out starkly against the rich gold and velvets draped around the decadent foyer. Tom watched carefully as his niece prepared to make her first friend in the Wizarding world.

"I'm Draco. My daddy is the boss of the death eaters. I don’t suppose you know how to play Quidditch yet?”

Hermione shook her head.

"My uncle is boss of the death eaters. He told me so. I like playing Tig, do you?"

Tom looked, surprised, at Hermione, feeling a shot of affection for her, somewhere in his black and cold heart.

"Yep." Draco answered, and smiled. He looked up at Narcissa.

“Can we go play, Mother?”

Hermione looked at Tom, for permission. He nodded.

"I want you back here, at nine o’ clock, though. And-" he looked at Draco, "don't stray from the east wing."

Draco nodded, and clasped Hermione's free hand. They ran, giggling up the stairs.

Narcissa looked at voldemort respectfully.

"She’s beautiful, master. I can sense the power off of her from here."

Tom nodded. There was no mistaking the fact that Hermione was a pretty child. She was small, yet not chubby, but instead lithe, with long copper ringlets down past her waist. 

Her eyes, though, were a silvery grey. They held a dark energy within them.

Voldemort found himself warming to her.

As Narcissa bowed and walked away to the Great Hall, Snape trudged through the door. Despite the Potions Professor only being a part of Voldemort’s order for a few years, he   
was part of the inner circle. Bellatrix’s hatred for the greasy haired man only endeared him further to Tom.

Snape gave a long, low, bow, and asked in his baritone voice, “My Lord; may we come through?”

Tom nodded, and swept away without a word. He had to see to the final preparations of Hermione's rooms.

As many of the Death Eaters began entering the Great Hall, eager for food and the chance to see the heir of Voldemort, there was the clattering of metal along with two high pitched laughs at the top of the staircase.

Draco was pulling Hermione around on a big cymbal they found. They readied themselves at the top of the staircase; Draco jumped on behind Hermione, and she gave a final push,

And they were whizzing, down and down and down…

And crashing into Severus Snape. The trio all fell to the ground in one fell swoop, and found the two new friends sprawled over Snape, whilst his nose was crashed into the silver gleaming cymbal. He let out a low groan, wheezing slightly when Draco accidently shoved his elbow into the Potion Professor’s ribcage.  
Snape picked himself up, and brushed off invisible pieces of dirt. The sneer in the set of his face was only belied by the thought that his godson and leader’s heir were the cause of his fall. 

"Miss Riddle," he announced crisply, "I am to escort you to dinner and introduce you to the main Death Eaters of the family. It would do well for you to remember poise and manners when acting around your new family. Come."

Hermione sent a panicked look to Draco before hanging her head and trudging towards the main hall.

This was going to be fun.

A few hours later Hermione sat, bored out of her mind, as one by one the Death Eaters walked up to announce themselves. They were on the third by now. Whilst Narcissa and Lysandra Dolohov suppressed giggles over the drooping eyelids of their young ward, Tom pressed on with introductions. His cold grey eyes swept over the room, taking in the hundreds of followers that he had accumulated.

This will all be hers one day, he thought to himself. 

"Hello- I am Lucius Malfoy. Father of Draco." this caught her interest. Hermione rather liked Draco, despite meeting him for an hour. Lucius bowed, and gestured to the outer ranks of the Death Eaters near the great stone doors. "I control the lower death eaters."

Lucius looked like a rather smug cat, with silvery-blonde hair and a sharp nose Hermione had noticed on many of the people here. He held a plain black cane in his hand.  
He walked back, passing another, heftier man walking up. He had a square chin grazed with stubble, and a cheeky glint in his dark green eyes. Slitted eyes gazed up at Hermione, dark hair pushed back into a messy bun. His dark coat covered his massive body. He was at least six foot, with the hint of a long canine pressed against his lips.

" I am Fenrir Greyback, leader of a pack of wolves in Yorkshire; but I spend most of my time here." his gravel like voice echoed down as he trudged back in line. Hermione sighed, softly. Four down, twenty to go.. She thought.  
After getting lost repeatedly on her journey back to her new room, Hermione curled up in bed, for the second time that day-or night? She had had a lot to take in during the few hours she had known her uncle. She always knew she was different, yet she would never have expected magic, and wands, and brooms…

And her uncle. Hermione wasn't sure if she liked him or not. She hadn't really seen that much of him, and what she had seen had been...odd. He scared her, yet there was something there. He looked almost exactly like her dad.

At the thought of her parents, Hermione curled deeper in the duvet, in her new suite. The room was a light green, patterned snakes in cool silver that lit up when the candles were extinguished. A large ensuite bathroom was found to the right of the room, and the stained glass window had a view of the lake and mountains. Hermione could still hear some of her uncle’s men cackling and throwing charms in the air on the grass lawns outside. A large black sofa still held her suitcase and other oddities that she hadn’t bothered to unpack yet.

In the corner of the room, her toy panther looked right at home.

A knock on the door broke Hermione out of her daydreams. Looking to the door, her uncle stepped in, smooth as silk.

“Have you enjoyed your time here so far, Hermione?”

The young girl nodded, and leaped out of her covers onto the bed.

“It’s great. I like Draco. And Snape, even though he’s weird.”

“Yes, I had heard about your antics with my antique dish. Narcissa will be here in the morning to dress you and bring you down to breakfast. I’m...” A small crease marred the alabaster complexion of Tom as he spoke, “...Proud, of the manner you conducted yourself this evening. Now then,” He gestured towards the bed, and Hermione found herself thrown back into it and tucked in tightly- "Tomorrow, Hermione, I will give you a tour of the castle. We will sort out your suitcase. And-" he glanced at her toy, "we will do something about that toy."

Hermione felt a bubble of joy rise in her. The ache for her parents was strong, yet she knew she was safe here.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione awoke from her dream of flying to find Narcissa staring at her coolly from across the room. The elder woman bowed, and gestured to the bathroom.

"Miss Riddle, your uncle the Dark Lord has sent me to help you get ready for breakfast. First impressions are everything! Now please pick some clothes and meet me in the bathroom."

Hermione was quite perturbed, wondering which land her imagination had picked-until she remembered yesterdays' events. The thought of touring the castle and spending more time with her odd uncle had her leaping out of bed, stretching the soreness out of her muscles.

Tottering towards her suitcase, she grabbed a pair of denim shorts and her black t-shirt. 

Running into the bathroom, she saw Narcissa had picked a lilac smelling shampoo and conditioner, and had run a full bath brimming with bubbles.  
“It is so nice to choose these things. Draco would rather have a mud bath then let me brush his hair,” Narcissa commented, before glancing over at the clothes Hermione cradled to her chest.

“Tell me, Hermione, what are those odd blue trousers you have there?”

Hermione grinned. “They’re called denim.”

Narcissa smiled. “I’m sure the Dark Lord will have one of us take you out shopping for... more Wizarding- appropriate clothing soon.”

Hermione felt red tinge her ears. “I don’t want him to spend money on me. Mum and Dad said to not ask if you want to receive.” 

Narcissa let out a tinkling laugh, showing her gleaming white teeth. 

“Darling, your uncle is one of the most famous and richest men in the country. You shall want for nothing under his care. And even if he wasn’t, Lucius and I would help you. “Denim” sounds like an incurable illness!”

Hermione smiled, jumping into the bubbles. She could get used to this.  
*  
Hermione arrived at the Luncheon Hall with a stomach full of nerves and a head full of doubts. That dissipated, however, as soon as she saw the great werewolf Fenrir pacing near the entrance. He growled at a passing Death Eater as the young girl ran up to him.

"Fenrir!" she squealed, racing to him. "Are you taking me to breakfast?"

He nodded, and held her hand loosely.

They entered the Grand Hall, and the first thing Hermione noticed was the halls architecture. Having now seen the Hall in the light of day, it reminded Hermione of a Greek temple, as it was held up by thick white load bearers, the ceiling was probably charmed to look like the sky outside. Right now the ceiling exuded warmth in its sunny state, a few lazy clouds journeying over its pale blue complexion.

As soon as she entered the hall with Fenrir, everyone turned to get a glimpse of the dark lord's niece. There were easily a hundred people in the room.

Tom seemed to be deep in conversion with Peter Pettigrew, the stout, rat-like man, yet now he turned to walk to Hermione. His brown curls were swept back, and his curving lips were drew up in a tight smile. His eyes glowed a low red as his niece smiled at him.

"Hello, uncle!" she smiled, pleased to see a familiar face.

nodded at her, and asked of Fenrir,

"May I escort my niece to the table?" Fenrir bowed and left without a word. Voldemort took her hand in his own, and walked to the High Table with her. Severus raised an eyebrow in recognition of the witch, and many of the Death Eaters murmured words of thanks and praise to the young girl as she pattered by them.

The head table was littered with several people. Hermione recognised Lucius and Narcissa, and smiled at Draco, who grinned in return.  
Hermione was seated in-between her friend and Voldemort who only had a cup of what appeared to be coffee. Hermione helped herself to one hash brown, and one spoon of beans.

The last thing she needed was food dribbling down her.

“Hey Hermione, I’ve got something to show you!” Draco laughed, before concentrating hard. Before her eyes he held his breath and frowned, whilst his hair turned from a pale white to a bright, florid pink. Hermione almost fell off her chair with laughter, and even Snape was able to raise a smile.

“Draco...” His father warned, before wafting his wand over his son’s head. Draco shrank back, albeit with a smile on his face.

Suddenly, the sky-ceiling turned grey, and a low slithering stuck up from the table. A giant head poked up and stared at Hermione opposite the long table.

It was a snake, as long three men, slithering on top of the table. As everyone resumed eating, Hermione concurred this must be a regular performance. She happily dug back in to her food.

The snake slid over to Voldemort, who stroked it.

"Hello, Nagini. This is Hermione.”

Nagini paused once more at the girl, and wafted its head in warning. Half the table fetched out their wands .Voldemort's glare held them back.

He wanted to see what Hermione would do.

Nagini opened her mouth, to reveal fangs as big as Hermione's head. The snake shot forward at a speed no one could decipher.

But everyone's eyes were on Hermione. She looked square on at the overgrown snake, and in a bored tone, simply said “no.” the snake stopped in its tracks, and suddenly buckled. It let out a hoarse squeal, and curled in on itself, before slithering furiously away back through the hall. No one but Snape noticed the Dark Lord wince and lay a hand over his heart. 

As soon as it happened, Hermione looked back down at her food quite nonchalantly. She looked around as if to say "what?" and carried on eating. Draco grinned, and hugged his friend. 

Everyone noticed Voldemort’s gleam in his eyes. But only Snape saw what looked like a hint of a proper smile.  
*  
After the events at breakfast, Hermione was quite happy to return to her suite. She had finished unpacking, and proceeded to dig out her multitude of toys. Whilst Tom had made sure her new room was furnished with expensive toys, such as a hovering broomstick and a multitude of chocolate frogs, she still loved her magician’s kit and tea set.

Hermione decided to fetch her magicians' kit out. Tottering out the room, she threw her long curls over her shoulder, and carried her case under her arms.

All she needed was an audience.

Strolling down the corridor, passing busy house elves and plain clothed servants, the first person she spotted was Lucius striding down the corridor, every smack of his boots on the floor mirrored by a short clap of the cane.

"Lucius!" she called bossily.

She sounds just like her uncle, thought Lucius as a vein throbbed in his forehead, but otherwise he knelt down to find out what she wanted.

"Pick a card." She asked.

"Why?-"

"Pick one or I'm telling my uncle."

"Alright!"

With a twist of her hands and a smile, she asked, "Is this your card?"

She flourished the ace of spades towards the bemused man.

"…Yes. How do you do that?"

"A magician never tells her secrets."

"..Anyway, the Dark Lord sent me to take you to him." Hermione beamed.

"I can show him my card trick!"  
*  
As Tom apparated to the stone courtyard, Lucius had been convinced by Hermione that she needed a piggyback. Voldemort met this scene in the courtyard- Hermione had her hands over Lucius' eyes, kicking him like he was some horse. She was squealing "faster pony!" Lucius was standing still, not sure what to do.

When Voldemort coughed, announcing his arrival, Lucius carefully plucked Hermione off of his head and placed her to tom. She went running towards her uncle, but Lucius' eyes were trained onto Voldemort.

"Master, I-"

"Silence, Lucius. It was…entertaining. Now spend time with your own child."

Lucius bowed, and swept away.

Hermione broke the short silence.

"Would you like to see a card trick?" Voldemort processed this thought, and decided to go with it.

"Yes."

"Pick a card, any card!"

"Hmm." A few minutes later, Tom would never have shown it but he was rather confused as to how she could do that with a muggle trick.

Carefully, he held Hermione delicate hand in his own, and preceded the tour of his home.

The castle, reaching the size of Hogwarts, was surrounded by acres of fields and forests. The forests to the left of the mansion teemed with life, and mountains directly behind it   
seemed covered with snow even in the hottest of summers. To the right of the pair stood the lake. Even now in the stillness of the air it churned with a host of creatures claiming hold to it.

Voldemort attempted to carry a light conversation with his niece, but Hermione questioned Voldemort incessantly.

"What’s your favourite colour?"

"Black."

"Mine’s grey! What’s your favourite movie?"

"I suppose you’re talking about an acted film? I have no time for such mudblood foolishness.”

"...Me neither. But if I *did* have one, it’d be The Little Mermaid! What’s your favourite animal?"

"You."

As they walked on through the meadows, Tom slowed his pace down for his panting niece. The warmth of the pale sunlight turned her curly mass of hair to gold in its light; the pairs’ grey eyes, however, had the same shine in them.

“How do you like your new home?

“I love it. Everyone does what I want and I don’t have to practice my maths work or eat vegetables.”

Tom smirked. “I love it when they do what I want too.” 

They carried on their walk.

“Hermione, one thing you must come to understand of your life here is that we are not normal wizards and witches. One day our life will be the norm, but until then there are some ideas you must accept.”

Hermione frowned and nodded. 

“In our world, there are certain blood types. My mother was a pure blood, as are most of my followers here. That means their family, and parents, was both purely wizards and witches. They weren’t polluted by muggle blood. We are the ones destined to rule the Wizarding world one day, and our order will strive to fulfil that goal. When I eventually succumb to mortality, I will expect you to continue on my legacy.”

Hermione smiled. “I can do that, uncle.”

Tom was amused. “I’m sure.”

“But,” Hermione frowned, “What blood am I? My parents are normal.”

Tom immediately stopped his walk, and crouched down to his niece’s eye level. His grey eyes were deadly serious as he looked at her.

“You must never say that whilst here. Muggles are the lowest of the low. They can’t create magic, or do anything or erstwhile importance. They are nothing more than servants for   
us, the higher of the society. I... I suppose you are half blood. I am too. My blood is in your veins, after all.”

Hermione took her uncle’s hand.

“We’re the same!”

Tom smiled tightly, and they walked on.

Voldemort remembered the debacle earlier. He decided to show Hermione a particular part of the forest, before conjuring her toy broomstick from his pocket.  
“I thought you might like to practice out here.”

Hermione squealed, and grabbed the broomstick, before kicking off from the ground. As she sped off, ducking and diving through the shrubbery and trees, she almost veered into   
a particularly tall oak tree.

“Careful!” Tom yelled, taking a pace forwards before he stopped himself. The crunch of the leaves around him did nothing to pull him from his thoughts.

Tom was…worried? Did that explain the twisting in his heart at the thought of Hermione in danger?

He had only known his niece for 3 days, yet he had begun to care for her. It was unknown to him why caring for another would warrant pain.


End file.
